


WIDOWED; Book One of Before the Fire

by RavenWolf48



Series: Before the Fire || After the Fire [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phil's actually kind of funny, Red Room, SHIELD isn't that bad, before Iron Man, eventually, motherly natasha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 00:29:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14965157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenWolf48/pseuds/RavenWolf48
Summary: Alex wasn’t planning on getting caught up in a kidnapping with the Queen of RussiaShe was just living her normal life, going to school, learning and reading and playing with nonexistent friends. Her dad had divorced her mom a long time ago and now it was just them. She had to take care of her mom until one day when her Aunt Mary came.Mary Farrell to be exact.This woman blew up her life-literally. The day she meets Alex, Alex’s house blows up. Her mother dies and she’s taken to Russia with her aunt. Alex has the danger of a poisonous serum on her back as well as an old enemy of Mary Farrell.Alex, slowly dying with every step she takes, unravels the mystery of her past





	1. Prolouge

Matryona Samodurov

Red Room, Somewhere in Armenia, Russia

12:37 PM

Wednesday

December 14 1981

27 years ago

 

_ M _ _ arusya Olanova.  _

Matryona looked at the slip of paper, hand starting to shake. She was already having doubts about this place but this slip confirmed it. Madame C lied to her. She lied to  _ Natashka  _ and everyone else who lived in this damned place. Matrona was only ten. She could escape. She could slip by without anyone noticing. 

But Natashka couldn’t. 

Natashka who was a little less than a year younger than her. The little girl who was brought in with Matryona and became blood-sisters with. _Krovavo-sestras_.  She was nine and fully brainwashed. Matryona never believed in the “Snow White” movies they showed in the Red Room. She never fully believed in anything that Madame C taught her. 

But Natashka did. 

Natashka, naive and young. One day she would understand. Hopefully one day she would understand. But Matryona couldn’t wait another day. She had to leave. She wanted a family, a home. And she couldn’t have a family if she was here when she turns 14. 

That’s initiation day. 

That was they day they sterilize the girls in this damned bloody room. 

She crumpled the paper as Madame C walked past her, slipping it in her mouth as an officer chained her wrist to the side of the metal bed. The bed was cold and hard despite the thin mattress on top of the wire exterior. 

Madame C was saying something but Matryona refused to listen, turning her head to look at Natashka instead. The younger girl was already close to being asleep, hand chained to the headboard as well. 

_ What is her name?  _ Matryona wondered. Natasha was her given name, so what was her birth name? Was it really Natasha? Was it Natalia? Who was her family? 

Matryona closed her eyes and waited, patient and coiled like a snake readying to attack. She couldn’t act now, it takes at least three minutes to walk through the long room. Then it would take another five for Madame C and the officers to make their way back out out of the room. Then, she could take out the bobby pin deep in her hair and unhook the handcuff. 

She just had to wait. 

And good for her; Matryona was the  _ best  _ in the school at waiting. 

Eight minutes later, Madame C was gone. She had briefly glanced over Matryona and looked at Natashka. Matryona had seen the look of jealousy on Madame C’s face. Madame C and Madame B were always fighting. Now that Natashka was slowly rising in the ranks of the best students in the Red Room, Madame C was obviously jealous. 

Once she was gone, Matryona sat up and slid out the bobby pin. She pulled it out with the one hand and picked at it in her teeth to get it just right. Then, she picked the lock on the handcuff and caught the binding before it could fall against the metal bed. She slid out, putting on her shoes when another girl awoke. 

Natashka. 

Natasha looked at her, rubbing her eyes slightly. The nine year old yawned and sat up, chain making a sound when it tapped against the bed frame. Matryona winced slightly. She didn’t want to wake anyone and there were motion sensors everywhere. Matryona knew they weren’t highly sensitive but Matryona didn’t know exactly how sensitive they were and she didn’t want to take the risk. Matryona quickly slid out the paper from her mouth and pushed it up against her wrist in the nightgown she was wearing. 

“What are you doing?” Natashka asked. 

“Natashka, _krovavo-sestra._ You have to sleep,” Matryona smiled soothingly. “Go to bed _sestra_.” 

“What are you doing?” Natashka repeated. The nine year old was too curious for her own good. Matryona's mind quickened for an excuse. 

“I’m going to get a drink,” she said. 

“But the officers-” 

“Already came by,” Matryona interrupted, face calm and cool. “They said I could leave to get a drink. They’re waiting for me at the door.  _ Spokoynoy nochi sestra _ .” Natasha looked skeptical but laid back down and closed her eyes. Matryona knew she would be liablelity here but she couldn’t bring the nine year old. She was too brainwashed. 

Matryona sat up and gathered her things into a large brown backpack and slung it over her shoulder. She headed into the backroom and pulled on the fighting stance clothes. It was a black suit that cut off at her wrists, ankles, and neck. It covered her entire body and she pulled on the tool belt that included things like a grappling hook, shock razors, and guns. 

She shoved her reddish-ginger hair in a pony and pulled the mask over her face. Matryona pulled on the soundproof boots and slid on the fingerless black gloves. She looked around for extra weapons and carefully placed them inside her bag. Matryona caught sight of grenades and paused for a second before shaking her head.  

Her job wasn’t to destroy the place-it was to get out. Somebody else could come and get rid of this place. Matryona’s only hope was that they didn’t kill Natashka. She couldn’t bring the little girl no matter how hard she tried to come up with a solution. If she wanted to get out of here, she would have to leave the little _chyornaya vdova,_ black widow. Matryona headed out into the dome where the officials would regularly grab random girls to fight against each other. They were put to a contest to the death. Weakness wasn’t tolerated here. Matryona shivered, remembering her last fight. It was against one of the older recruits and it ended with her stabbing that nineteen year old in the throat. She didn’t cry then. She didn’t even blink. Even now, Matryona barely thinks about that older girl. 

Matryona wasn’t heartless-she wasn’t a monster. 

But she was cruel. 

And she wasn’t going to die in this place. 

Matryona reached the edge of the dome and grappled her way up the side. Once at the top she could sneak beneath the Red Room’s heat sensors and slide into the unknown wilderness of Russia. From there, she would go to St. Petersburg, find a plane, and head to America. After all, everyone finds a better life in America. 

She reached the top and hunched down low. Matryona looked up with her head and down to the ground. If she rose up to much, she would hit the sensors and then she would have to make a run for it. If she didn’t rise up enough, she would end up not being able to see where she needed to go. Matryona looked down and pulled out the grappling hook. 

She aimed at a tree and pulled the trigger. The hook shot out and looped around one of the branches. Matryona tugged the other end around the pole next to her and slid on her stomach, turning around. She was now on her back, feet facing the ground. She leaned back and pulled a rope around the bar that was tied to the tree. She wrapped it around her fingers which were covered in white gauze to protect her hands. Matryona took a deep breath and slid off the side of the wall, falling. The wind rushed past her face and she grinned, barely holding back a laugh. She was doing it! She was actually leaving! 

Her feet hit the base of the tree and she dropped, leaving the hook and rope behind. Matryona dropped both and took off at a run through the woods, ignoring anything behind her. She jumped over a fallen log and didn’t stop running. 

Hours later, Matryona breached the woods onto a city highway. At least that’s what it look like. Matryona wasn’t so sure since she had only seen pictures of things like this. The brick road seemed to go on for miles and she started walking in one direction, hoping it was the right way. 

She was breathing heavily and pulled her arms around her chest, letting loose a breath of cold air. It dissipated into smoke and she looked at it before shaking it off. Matryona froze when she heard something behind her. She turned and realized it was a car. Or what resembled a car. It’s probably a car. She didn’t really know...what the outside world was not her forte. Matryona waved her hand and the car slowed down. 

“ _ Zdravstvuyte _ ,” she smiled. That was ‘Hello’ in Russian. “ _ Vy mozhete otvezi menya v Sankt-Peterburg _ ?” roughly translated to ‘Can you give me a ride to Saint Petersburg?’. 

There were two men in the front seat. They looked at each other and then at her, shrugging. 

“ _ Poluchit' v spinu, _ ” one said. “ _ My otvezem vas v Peterburg. _ ” 

‘ _ Get in the back. We’ll take you to Petersburg. _ ’

Matryona nodded, biting her lip. She quickly climbed in the back and let them drive her to Petersburg. She didn’t trust them though and as soon as she was in the car, gripped her gun. Matryona looked out the window at the forest running by, waiting until she could around. 

It was about an hour-probably more-when the men pulled into a town. It was fairly busy but also it was late at night so there wasn’t a lot of people out. The lights from the buildings lit up the area and Matryona reached for the door. 

The men looked at her and she froze. 

“ _ Ty mozhesh' menya brosit'.” _ she said sharply. Her heart sped up a bit as she told them she could be let out. But they didn’t unlock the door.  

“ _ Malenkaya devochka, kotoruyu mozhno snachala zaplatit' _ ,” one of them sneered. Matryona felt her instincts kick in as the one stated that she would have to ‘pay up’.

One of them reached for her and she pulled out her gun in a flash, pulling the trigger. The man fell down next to his friend dead. She shot the other one and they were both dead in the car. Matryona waited for a second before climbing out of the car and grabbing the two bodies. She pulled them out of the car and into the backseat, disposing them. 

She pulled out a black long coat with a collar that covered half of her face. Matryona put the key in the ignition and a brick on the accelerator and slammed the door. She watched as the car drove away and then into a lampost. 

Matryona fluffed the collar, hiding her face and walking towards the main square. She examined the map before spotting an airport. Back at the Red Room, she had taken at least 30000 rubles. When she arrived in America she could exchange whatever was left into dollars. 

She walked to the airport because thankfully it wasn’t that far. Matryona hurried a little bit when it started to rain and she sneezed. She entered the airport, feeling stuffy and cold. Matryona walked up to the desk and slid the money, asking for a ticket. 

The woman didn’t even hesitate and gave her one. She headed to the American boarding gate 2AD7. She looked around but barely anyone was there. Someone was speaking Russian on the overhead. She headed to other gates to grab more tickets so as to cover her tracks. With ten other tickets in her hand, she waited until the correct gate started boarding. 

Matryona scuttled on board, ignoring the weird looks from some people. She slid into her seat and looked out the window. The rain had turned into soft snow falling onto the ground and Matryona sighed, smiling. 

She made it. She did it. 

Not for the first time, her thoughts turned to Natashka. It was just a few hours before the guards would come in to wake her. Thankfully, since Natashka was well respected and one of the best students that they wouldn’t kick her out from the Red Room. 

Which means they wouldn’t kill her. 

That was a plus at least...but she was going to miss Natasha. 

Matryona winced when her ears began to fill with air from the plane rising. She closed her eyes, plugging her ears with headphones that were offered to her. She wrapped herself in the coat, hiding her pantsuit and other weapons. With a start, she realized she would have to get rid of those before she reached America, so she quickly hid them in different seats. She returned back to her seat and closed her eyes again. 

_ Marie Antonova.  _

That was the new name for her. A new life. One without all of the horrors in the Red Room. She would make it to America and she would create a path for herself. 

And lucky for her...She did


	2. Chapter 1

Alex Smykova

Alex Symkova’s Apartment

The Bronx, New York City; New York

8:42 AM

Friday

March 2 2008

27 years later

 

 

_ “ _ M alen'kiy krasnyy _ ,” a voice hissed in Alex’s ear.  _

‘Malen’kiy krasnyy’ _ roughly translated to ‘little red one’.  Alex didn’t know how to explain how she knew that other than it was the type of language that she and her mother used. How this man knew it, Alex had no clue.  _

_ Alex was blindfolded and she opened her mouth wide, tasting the air. It was metallic and she assumed she was in some sort of warehouse. The fourteen year old closed her mouth and whipped her head around, trying to locate the voice with her head.  _

_ She was strapped to a chair and her hands were tied criss-crossed over the wrists and around the back of the chair. She tapped her feet and found that they were tied too. Her chest was bound to the back of the chair and she tried to lean forward but the ropes there prevented her from moving anywhere.  _

_ “ _ U tebya krav', ty ruki, malenkiy, _ ”  _

_ The voice was back and it was hard and rough, like a man’s. Again, it translated to something like ‘You have blood on your hands, little one.’  _

_ It was in her right ear and she attempted to knock her head back in that general direction. But the voice just chuckled and she nearly tilted off-kilter. She would’ve fallen flat on her face if someone hadn’t spun her chair around. She stopped herself from yelling in surprise.  _

_“_ Naydi svoyu tetyu, malenkuyu. _”_ _Find your aunt little one--the man was saying._ “Vy mozhete zhit', esli budete. _” You might live if you do--is what he ended with. Alex shuddered._

_ “Who?” Alex yelled to the darkness.  _

_ “ _ Chernyy- _.”  _

_ ‘Black-’ _

**RING.**

**RING.**

**RING.**

Alex bolted up. 

She grabbed her heart and panted heavily, eyes wide as she looked around her room. Her comforter was a mess; the covers thrown about. Her corner of the dingy apartment was cozy and small. Her door opened up to a small room from the hallway. To the right was her bed, shoved against the wall and the other side, a closet. Straight ahead was a large bay window, sticking out over the streets of New York City. Alex had covered the area in a blanket and often found herself sitting there. 

The window opened up and she could slide down the spiral stairs to the ground. There was an empty alleyway where Alex could run and act as wild as she ever wanted to. Her room extended up at least 10 feet, allowing for a loft. She stuck a bunch of random junk up there, most of it from her nights outside. She closed her eyes and lied back down on her bed, hand over heart.

**RING.**

**RING.**

**RING.**

Alex growled and slapped the clock beside her bed that continued to ring until she properly hit it, shutting it off. She pushed back the covers and looked at her closet, refusing to get up. She didn’t want to go back to school after what had happened yesterday. Eventually though, she dragged herself up walking to the closet. 

_ Malen'kiy krasnyy _

_ Little red one.  _

Alex stumbled back a bit and shook her head, clearing that thought of her head. It wasn’t a good thought and she hated the nickname. ‘Little red one’? She didn’t even have red hair! Well...

Alex looked at the mirror beside her bed, examining her heavily dyed hair. The base of it was a dark blue and it had large streaks of dark purple hair and light blues tinged in it. Two long strips hung in front of her face and the parts behind were cropped on the base of her neck. What people didn’t know was what her real hair color was and she preferred to keep it that way. She pushed the two long strips behind her ears and pulled the doors of the closet. 

She picked out a dark black t-shirt and pulled it on along with dark black leggings. She grabbed her favorite combat boots and shoved them on, pulling on a tight dark red leather jacket as well. She grabbed two pins and clipped the two strips of hair to the sides of her head, showing off her ears. She then put some earrings in-small silver hoops. She closed the door of the closet and walked out of her room and down the hallway. 

She walked past her mom’s room and lightly rapped it. 

“ _ Mama? _ ” she called. Her tongue twisted and it came out accented. Not that she minded and neither did her mom. “You’ve gotta get up for work, come on,” and she headed into the kitchen to make some breakfast. She turned on the oven and threw in some eggs, cooking them to the right level. Then she pushed bread into the toaster and pulled out the milk. She pulled out the ice cream and snacked on that, scooping out chocolate. 

When the eggs were ready, she piled them onto a plate and buttered the toast that popped up from the toaster. She laid them out, took one last scoop of ice cream, and put that away. Alex grabbed the plate and headed into her mom’s room. Her mom was sitting up looking out a similar bay window. She looked at Alex and smiled, but her gaze was off. Alex smiled. 

“Hey,  _ mama _ ,” she whispered. “Here,” she laid out the plate and her mom looked at it, dazed. Alex waited until her mom started eating and kissed her on the head. 

“ _ Proshchay _ ,” Alex said and, after saying good-bye, left the room. She slung on her black backpack and pulled out her phone. She walked out of the apartment and to the elevators. She grabbed the nearest one and walked out of the apartment building, down the street towards her school. She didn’t look up from her phone once. Instinct would take over and she would dodge someone perfectly. They always looked surprised but she brushed it off. 

Alex took the subway to her school, not pausing to look up from her phone. She was looking at the recent feeds and sighed heavily. A lot of people were trying to defend Stark on the recent post she made on Tumblr. She complained that a lot of what that billionaire was doing was hurting the environment greatly. Of course, Stark fans had to defend him even though she gave explicit facts about what he was doing. It was  _ ‘explicitly’ _ annoying. 

She snickered a little bit. 

Ignoring those posts, she scanned through some more. Most were about politics but apparently the infamous black widow spider had killed a man in Africa. Which was weird because aren’t black widow spiders normally from Northeast United States? Whatever. 

Alex got off the subway and walked the three blocks to her school before putting her phone away and shutting it off. She continued on to Crotona Academy High School. She was 14 years old but she was advanced in almost every subject. 

Alex just… _ gathered _ information easily. 

The American Revolution-memorized. Every battle place, every general, every war strategy-done. The Berlin Wall-the reason why it was put up, how long, why it was taken down, memorized. Historical figures, the Pythagorean Theorem, every number in Pi-done in a matter of seconds. She could even name better strategies to battles or solve a problem that was unsolvable to most college teachers. She could just take in information easily. It was like learning how to walk to her.  

Her mom said that her mind was a  _ kompyuter- _ - computer. Alex took in information and stored it in a hard-drive, saved it for when she needed it, and used it then. It made sense to her. 

When she was younger, Alex always felt like she was different. She wanted to fit in, to be like the other girls-giggling and laughing. But Alex’s mind seemed to reject that. It didn’t make sense-who would giggle over a stupid boy? Or a little messed up lipstick? What was so important about that? 

Maria, Alex’s mom, would smile at her question and just tell her, “Alex. You are special. Wonderful. The things you store in your mind--the things that make sense to  _ you,  _ will be your saving grace.” Then her eyes would harden just slightly. “My past does not haunt me. But it will haunt you.” 

Alex always thought that was a strange thing to say to a four year old like her at the time. 

Alex held her backpack tighter and walked into Crotona, ignoring other people. She didn’t like other people. Most were weird, noisy, and reeked. And other people didn’t like her because she was a straight A+ student who liked black leather jackets, had blue hair, and deep midnight black eyeshadow. (What? It made her eyes darker and she liked that.) 

Alex headed to her first hour class which was History and waited for the bell to ring. She was in the last seat to the right, next to the window. She watched the bluebird outside and aimlessly listed facts about it in her mind as other students started filing inside. 

Alex looked up a bit when the teacher walked in but looked away. She wasn’t really interested in Mrs. Hatchet. She was an old teacher-probably 76-and had worked at Crotona for a very long time. Her white hair was pulled into a bun and she hobbled to the desk with a walking stick. Her features were tight and she was small and slightly plump. She sat down at the desk and Alex watched her movements carefully, planning them all out in her mind’s eye. 

_ She’s going to tap her upper lip with the number 2 pencil like she always does.  _

_ She’s going to look at her notes, lifting her old lady cheaters to look at the notes. _

_ Her lip will curl and her nose will point as her eyes strain downwards.  _

_ She’s going to stay in that position for exactly 15.8 seconds before the bell rings.  _

_ When the bell does ring, she’ll stay in the position for another 2.4 seconds before finally looking at the class to glare at me.  _

_ Then, she’ll rise and tell everyone to start reading about the Chinese Communist Revolution… _

_...which lasted exactly 4 years from 1945 to 1949.  _

Mrs. Hatchet tapped her lip. 

She looked at her notes, lifting her old lady cheaters. 

Lip curls, noise points, and eyes strain. 

15, 14, 13, 

12, 11, 10, 

9, 8, 7, 6, 

5, 4, 3, 2, 

1

**_BRRRRIIINNGG!_ **

2, 1 

Mrs. Hatchet looked up and glared at Alex who silently rolled her eyes at the irony and repetition of the old lady. Then, she looked to the class and announced, “Today you’ll be reading the rest of chapter eight to chapter ten. Remember to do  _ all of the work _ .” she stressed the last bit and with one final glare at Alex, sat back down. 

A lot of kids sighed and pulled out the workbooks to do it. Alex opened it and just went to the work pages, flipping through it and answering the questions lightning fast. 

It was almost too easy. Answering these questions. 

When she finished she kept the book opened, pretending she was doing stuff to fool the teacher. Mrs. Hatchet didn’t like her. Most teachers didn’t. Alex didn’t know why. (She had a theory that it was a certain aspect of her that most people just recoiled from. She didn’t know what it was though.)

The hour-or ‘class’-that Alex was in lasted for a hour and a half. A hour and a  _ half _ . It was ridiculous. Towards the end of the hour, Alex saw more and more kids getting done with the workbook and putting it away to pull out their phones. 

By the time the hour ended, Alex had already packed away her stuff in her backpack. She left the room and went to her computer class which was always her favorite. Today, they were learning how to hack a Linux site which was what Alex always wanted to learn. It was surprisingly easy but then again, everything was pretty easy to Alex. 

Hours 3 and 4 passed and she ate alone at lunch. She barely ate anything, just an apple, a sandwich, and a can of Pringles. Hour 5 passed and 6 was slower than normal. 7 was the same as always and Alex was feeling intolerant as ever by the end of the day. She hated school because of the people and the teachers. The curriculum was also under her level and too easy but her mom could barely pay rent even with Alex juggling three jobs. 

Alex was a store cashier and at that store she was a cheerful person. She usually took off the makeup and shrugged off her black jacket. She’d pull back her two long strips of hair behind her head so it looked like her whole hair was short. There, everyone thought she was 21 and her name was Carrie Rosiere. 

Another job was stocking shelves. There she was her normal self but 18 so she would get paid in full. The other one was a librarian. But that library was being shut down so she had four more days of getting paid before the library would be gone. 

As Alex climbed onto the subway, she prepared herself to become Carrie. She’d usually have to just plaster a smile on her face and act all sweet so it wasn’t that hard. It took about an hour to get there so she had some time to prepare. 

The cashier job and stocking job took longer today than normal and Alex was getting irritated again. She just wanted to get home and take care of her mom. Could she just do that in peace? Why was her life like this?

By the time she got home it was 6 o’clock at night and Alex was irritated as ever. Some snotty customer had kept her behind her normal schedule because they kept on trying to cash in an expired coupon. The man was sexist of course, so he didn’t believe her when she told him that it was expired and she had to get her boss over there to sort the guy out. 

_ Dumb-ass.  _ Alex thought as she walked up the steps to her third floor apartment. The elevator was being too slow and she needed to see her mom now. Normally she was making dinner right now for her mom. Then she would walk into the kitchen, make some sort of noodle dinner and binge her Netflix series;  _ This Green Earth.  _ (She’s already seen it multiple times but likes watching it in different languages to learn the different languages out there.)

Alex pushed the door open and headed to her apartment, rummaging around her stuff to find her key. She found it in the back pocket and pulled it out, turning to open the door. 

She froze. 

The door was already open. 

Alex pushed the door fully opened and walked into the kitchen and/or living room. She dumped her bag on the couch and carefully walked to the kitchen. She couldn’t hear her own footsteps over the pounding of her heart. She grabbed one of the knives in their containers and headed to the hallway where her mom was. She didn’t dare call out for her mom even though she desperately wanted to. Instinct was kicking in and it told her to be quiet and swiftly engage on the threat. 

_ Well, first you have to find the threat. Judging from the way the door was opened, you’re dealing with a highly trained assassin. It was moved in such a way that no one would ever think it was opened. The furniture was exactly where you left it so whatever this person was they weren’t looking for an object. Which means they’re probably looking for your mom.  _

Alex walked down the hallway slowly, knife in her hand. She had slipped behind the counter and past the bathroom. One room down was her mother’s room and a light was on. 

_ Clearly this person isn't going for stealth. They’ve got the light on and there’s hushed voices so they’re talking to your mom? But why would they do that? Unless there’s two and they’re communicating with each other about how to take on your mom. From the voices it’s two women which means if they are trained assassins, they know how to use their bodies- _

Suddenly, one of them walked out. 

Alex froze when a woman came out. She looked at Alex warily. She had a slim face and bright blue eyes with brown hair. Her body was thin and taunt, ready to spring out. She had a slim office jacket on but Alex guessed that it wouldn’t slow her down. 

_ From her posture, she’s right handed. Only to take you off guard, she’ll attack you to the left. Probably side-swipe with hand or leg. She probably knows you’re right handed too and once she’s done taking you down on the left she’ll strike to the right.  _

_ What you have to do, is dodge the left sided attack and dive towards the right leg. Kick that out from beneath her and she’ll be down within seconds. But from the way she’s holding herself, she’ll easily get back up. Once she is up, she’ll fight with her strong side, probably try to take you down to the right again. You’ll have to dodge it and play defense before you fully attack- _

“Who is it?” 

Alex blinked at her mom’s croaky voice. Her mom doesn’t normally speak and it sounded scratchy and throaty. She was really sick. 

The woman’s face went blank and devoid of emotion. “ _ Devochka-podrostok _ .  _ Ty znaesh' yeye _ ?” Alex blinked. This woman was speaking what she and her mom spoke. Alex was too stunned to translate.

“ _ Alexei _ ?” her mom’s voice again. Alex shook her head and slid the knife in her leg pocket and sidestepped the woman, walking into the room. 

“ _ Mama? _ ” she asked, word accented. “Who...what’s going on?” 

“This is your aunt Mary Farrell,” her mom coughed and Alex blanked. “She’s...she’s…”

“Is this Alex?” the woman, Mary, came in. “The one you want…?” 

“My daughter yes,” Alex’s mom coughed again. “Alex…”

“What the hell is going on?” Alex snapped. “Who the hell are you? Why should I trust her? Why does she speak  _ our language _ ? And why is she here?” 

“I’ve known your mother since I was 3,” the woman spoke up. “I’m Mary Farrell under false pretenses, it’s up to you if you want to trust me, you’ve been speaking generic Russian so it isn’t ‘your language’ and I’m here to take you to Russia.” Alex gaped. 

“Are you insane?” She snapped. “I’m not-” 

“You are,” her mom sat up. “I don’t care if she has to drag you out of this apartment-” 

“That would actually be preferable,” Mary remarked. 

“-But you are going with her to Russia,” Alex’s mom glared at Mary. There was a pause as she suddenly coughed. Alex winced at the horrible sound. 

“Why?” Alex whispered but deep down she already knew. 

Her mom smiled sadly. “I’m dying, Alex. Not even your aunt can stop it,” Alex saw Mary’s jaw clench like she resented that. 

“But why her?” Alex persisted. 

“Because she knows me better than anyone else,” her mom coughed again. “Go with her. Get your stuff and go. Don’t argue. Please, Alex. Just listen to her,” 

Alex opened her mouth to argue again but an explosion from the kitchen knocked her off her feet. 


	3. Chapter 2

Mrya Orlovsky

Catherine’s Palace, Tsarskoe Selo

Near St. Petersburg, Russia

9:42 AM

Friday

March 2 2008

10 hours earlier

 

M yra looked up from her computer, stone-faced. The queen was still arguing with her maid, Ana about what dress to wear to the party that starts in a few hours. Ana thought the perfect one was pink with blue ruffles and the queen, Nicoletta wanted the opposite. Myra wanted to tell Ana to just give it up but she knew that only saying that would make Ana insist more. Unfortunately, Myra was watching the two most stubborn people in all of Russia butt-heads over a dress. And it wasn’t going away anytime soon. 

Myra was tempted to just leave the room, but being Nicoletta’s main guard she had to stay with the queen no matter what. Myra instead decided to ignore the banter and focus on preparations for the mid-day party that was starting in a few hours.  

Just from her computer, Myra could tell the servants downstairs what to place on the furnished tabletops. It was amazing what new technology that man had created and Myra was proud to be in charge of all of it. 

About a month ago, a man came by the name of Ivan Somodorov. He said that he could update everything technology-type in the palace. Myra was skeptical but Nicoletta, being the vain queen she is, agreed immediately. A day later, the internet was faster than before. Each maid, servant, and butler had an earpiece that connected to one of the phones and anyone could call them that way. There were cameras everywhere and passcode-locked dressers for the queen. 

Myra was still skeptical but she had to admit that this was a big advance in technology and quite frankly she loved it. Although, she would never admit that out loud. 

She had thanked Mr. Somodorov though and he refused the thanks, merely stating that he was doing a service to his country. Myra thought that was odd, but let it be turning to focus on the new updates in technology. 

“It has to be this one,  _ moya koroleva _ !” Ana insisted. 

“ _ Nyet! _ ” Nicoletta screamed and shoved the dress she liked at Ana. “Dress me! Now!” 

Myra sighed as Ana looked stricken. Then, Ana’s face clouded with distaste. 

“ _ Nadeyus', vy sozhaleyete ob etom _ ,” she spat but dressed the queen nontheless. 

_ Der’mo.  _ Myra thought, rolling her eyes. 

“Alright  _ moya koroleva _ ,” Myra said, standing. “I am going downstairs to prepare with the rest of the servants. Ana, please  _ ne ubivai yeye _ ,” 

“ _ Eto budet slozhno _ , Myra,” Ana mumbled, grasping the corset strings and yanking. 

“In case you didn’t remember,” Nicoletta gasped and Myra began to take her leave. “I can have both of you  _ poveshen _ !”

Myra chuckled to herself and headed down the large hallway. She had called up two other guards to take care of the queen and her servant. She walked down the spiral stairs, barely glancing at the large golden chandelier. 

“Myra!  _ Privet! _ ” Myra turned to look at a man walking up to her. He had a pointed face and neat smile with an odd look in his eyes. His suit was tied down and he glanced over at the servants who were working on the main gallery and dining room. “What do you think?” 

“I think my opinion hardly matters,” Myra responded calmly. She was keenly aware that this man was looking at her body suit in certain areas. He also looked familiar. “What is your name again?” 

“Oh, right, yes, I’m Albert,” the man held out his hand. Myra didn’t take it. “I’m the queen’s new advisor,” 

“You look familiar,” Myra looked him over. Albert paused. 

“I can assure you that you do not know me,” he said. “I do know you of course, because you’re the leader of the protection for the queen! Isn’t that quite a power position?”

“If you’re interested in taking my job,” Myra said coldly. “I think you’ll find that I’m the most qualified and the queen will not guarantee anything like it for you,” 

“Oh no,” Albert looked affronted. “I’m not--I’m not trying to steal your job! I’m just saying that, well, if something were to happen to the queen, the blame would be on your shoulders. Isn’t that a bit hard?” Myra looked at him.  

“Are you implying that you’re going to take  _ yeye Velichestvo _ ?” Myra’s voice was sharp and clipped. Albert’s eyes widened. 

“Oh no--take  _ the queen _ ? That’s positively ridiculous!” the man laughed. “I’m merely pointing something out _ \--clarifying _ , if you would.” Myra’s eye twitched. 

“Of course,” she said. “For the... _ pretense _ if such a thing would ever happen... _ da _ , I suppose I would be responsible, Mr. Albert.” the man’s eyes flickered with something. 

“The punch is lovely, Mrs. Orlovsky, although--” he started to walk away. “I heard that you are now widowed?” Myra leaned back a bit. 

“Yes,” she said, tense. “But I agree, the punch is  _ prekrasniy _ ,” 

Albert smiled and left, taking a punch glass. Which was odd, now that Myra thought about it. This man had just arrived and was now leaving. And he commented on the punch even though he didn’t have any. 

Myra, more suspicious than ever, walked around the dining room, looking for Fenya Mikhailov. She was the official counter of the night and had the complete list of the guests. Myra found Fenya near the front galla doors, counting the people on the list. 

“Ms. Mikhailov?” Myra stopped one of the guest counters. “Is...is an Albert on that list?” 

“Um,” Fenya dragged her pen down the list. “Mr. Albert Mordenhov yes. Is that a problem?” 

“No,” Myra said. “Just...tell the other guards to keep an eye on Mr. Albert tonight. I don’t like the way he presented himself to me,” 

“Of course,” Fenya nodded and spoke into the earpiece as Myra walked away. She looked around for Albert, now cursing herself because she wasn’t focused on the task at hand. The man had disappeared under her nose. 

Of course, she let him go. 

She let him disappear. 

_ Der’mo.  _

Myra’s hands were clasped in front of her as she watched Nicoletta entertain her guests. The queen was holding the feast in her cousin’s honor. Apparently that cousin had gained a Nobel Prize award. Myra had a feeling that it was simply because Nicoletta was bored and loved to throw parties. Of course, the guests didn’t complain.

So far, Mr. Mordenhov hadn’t shown up. Myra was on the lookout for him and so was half the staff. She didn’t like the way that he had talked about the queen. And she had a feeling that he lied about being the Queen’s advisor. 

Myra’s eyes flickered to the stairwell where the queen was running upstairs with the man she had been dancing with. 

She nodded to two other guards who carefully climbed the steps after her. This was a drill that happened often. Myra would be focused on something else, but someone had to accompany the queen. 

“Hello again Mrs. Orlovsky!” Myra stiffened and shoved down her reflexes, instead turning to the man calmly. 

Mr. Mordenhov looked drunk (he must’ve snuck something in the punch) and he was holding his glass in a tispy state.He leaned against the column next to Myra so she turned to him and pretend to flirt. It was the best way to get something out of someone. 

“Hello again,” Myra smiled sweetly. “Are you having a nice time  _ ser? _ ” 

“Yes, yes, _da, da, da!_ ” the man grinned. “ _Kak_ _tsaritsa_?” 

“ _ Ochen' khorosho _ ,” Myra said, pretending to sound please. “ _ Vy khotite mne chto-to skazat' _ ?” Albert grinned. 

“ _ Krasnaya sel'd’ _ ,” he whispered and laughed, walking away--perfectly sober. 

Myra’s heart dropped. 

_ Red Herring.  _

“No,” Myra whispered. “No, no, no,  _ nyet, nyet, nyet! Der’mo! _ ” She ran towards the stairs, abandoning her post but for a good reason. Hundreds of horrendous thoughts plagued her mind as she raced up the spiral staircase, towards the Queen’s room. The man Nicoletta had been with was dead. As well as the guards Myra had posted with the queen. 

The queen herself had disappeared. 

Crumbled on the sheets of the bed, was a note.

 

_ Thank you for the security _

_ The Queen will be a great edition _

_ To the Krasnaya Komnata. Our thanks _

_ -Ivan Somodorov _

_ (If you have any hope of finding her, I would employ  _

_ Miss  _ Chernaya Vdova _ and Miss  _ Krasnaya Vdova

_ They would find your Queen easily) _

 

Myra crumbled the note and screamed. 

“No!” Ana yelled. “We are not-! We aren’t going to put the queen’s life in someone like-like  _ them’s- _ hands! We aren’t!” 

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Myra explained, a little snappy. It wasn’t just Ana who was upset about the Queen’s kidnapping. “Our guards and spies haven’t come close to finding out where the  _ Krasnaya Komnata  _ is. We all thought it was dead after all,” 

“Send our own search parties we can do this on our own!” Ana growled, digging her feet in and not giving up.  

“We can’t find it, we won’t find it,” Myra snapped. “This isn't up to you anymore. This is about what is best,” 

“The man himself suggested it-” Ana started. 

“And this man could be one of the deadliest humans in history,” Myra cut her off. “Even though it could be a trap, we’ve played right into his hands.” Myra waited to let that sink in. “I’m sorry Ana-it’s out of our control,” Ana stared at the wall before turning and leaving the room. Myra let her go, instead choosing to bring out her phone and call a number from New York City. 

She waited before someone answered to talk. “Yes? Mr. Coulson? I have a mission for your  _ Chernaya Vdova  _ and  _ Krasnaya Vdova _ .”


	4. Chapter 3

Alex Smykova

SHIELD Freight Plane

Somewhere over the Atlantic

9:58 AM

Saturday

March 3 2008

14 hours later

 

A lex gasped and bolted awake. She coughed as dust flooded out of her mouth. She wheezed and held her chest, trying to control her breathing as she looked around. She looked like she was on a plane, high in the air. It was hard to tell how high but high enough to see the clouds when she looked out the window next to her. She could also feel her ears popping. 

The plane was a private jet from the looks of it. Plush chairs were scattered here and there. There were two windows in every area, giving nice views of the skyline. A giant flat-screen TV was bolted the wall above the door to the cockpit. 

_ Bang! _

Alex startled and looked behind her, rubbing her head. 

There was her aunt Mary in a tight black suit using a stick against a metal pole. Her hair had changed to bright red curls that bobbed around her head. But she still looked like Mary Farrell but Alex had to blink a few times just to make sure. 

She slammed it in different places, sometimes rolling and ducking like the metal pole was fighting back. She was concentrating on it and ignored Alex completely. Alex watched her for a moment and was secretly pleased to see that she was right. Her aunt fought with her right hand. 

Alex shifted, looking away before sitting up and frowning. She looked at her aunt again, who finally seemed to notice her. Mary gave one last kick before dropping down. Barely even panting, Mary stood and walked to one of the tables to the right of her. A thin hallway lead to the back of the plane where Alex suspected was a bathroom. Alex closed her eyes, remembering her mom. She hated this woman. 

“ _ ikh has ir _ ,” Alex mumbled, spitting the words on the ground.  _ I hate you  _ in Yiddish. 

“ _ ikh ton nit teytn deyn mam aoyb az s vos ir has mir _ .” Mary spoke back, words rough.  _ I didn’t kill your mom if that’s why you hate me.  _ Also, in Yiddish. 

Alex stood up straight and Mary looked at her. 

“ _ Hur många språk kan du? _ ” Mary asked, sounding curious.  _ How many languages do you speak?  _ in Swedish. 

“ _ Complures. Prorsus nescio quot. _ ” Alex responded in clipped Latin.  _ Quite a few. I don’t know how many exactly.  _

“ _ Kilatini kamili. Nahitaji kuku bali ninavutiwa. _ ” Mary smiled ever so slightly.  _ Perfect latin. I have to admit I’m impressed  _ in Swahili. 

“ _ Sindikufuna kutamandidwa kwanu. Kodi amayi anga ndi kuti ndani amene muli gehena _ ?” Alex snarled.  _ I don’t need your praise. Where is my mom and who the hell are you? _

Mary paused. 

“I don’t know what that is,” she frowned. Alex blinked. 

“You...you don’t know Nyanja?” she asked. 

“ _ Nyet. _ ” Mary said. 

“ _ Bul akmak, _ ” Alex snorted.  _ That’s stupid.  _

“ _ Net, eto ne tak. Ya ne mogu vse znat'. Teper', chto vy khotite znat'? _ ” Mary said.  _ No it isn’t. I can’t know everything. Now, what did you want to know? _ in Russian. Alex stilled, still not used to the language being used by others. 

“Where’s my mom and who the hell are you?” Alex demanded. Mary stopped. 

“Your mother was blown up by Ivan Somodorov’s agents.” Mary said bluntly. “And I’m your mother’s blood-sister, Natasha Romanoff. I was originally sent to get your mom on a mission but it ended, well….like this. Believe me, this is not ideal,  _ malen'kiy _ ,” she turned away, setting down the wrappings from her hands. 

Alex froze. 

“Stop it,” she said. 

“Stop what?” Mary--Natasha-- _ that damned woman  _ said, turning to look at her. 

“ _ Yalanlar _ !” Alex shouted, waving her arms. “ _ The lies _ ! I don’t know who you are! You do  _ not  _ know my mom! You don’t know her! Just-just  _ stop lying Natashka _ !” 

Mary--Natasha--whatever had started towards the front of the jet, probably to check on the pilots when she froze. 

“ _ Natashka _ ?” she whispered.  

Alex ignored her. “ You’re lying!” She yelled. “You’ve  _ been  _ lying since I’ve met you! I’m not Russian! You aren’t my aunt! You aren’t my family! You dragged me on this stupid plane to do-to do whatever! And you know what? I don’t believe you! I think you  _ planned  _ that attack on my house! I think you just wanted us to leave and used that as an excuse!” Alex started to cry and wiped her eyes. “You’re a heartless  _ mohctp _ .” 

“Yeah,” Natasha said abruptly. “Yes I am,  _ Asya.  _ Happy now?” Alex stared at her, tears still running down her face. 

“Wh--what?” she whispered. “Why would you--what did you call me?” 

“ _ Asya Lyudmila Symkova. _ ” Natasha said. “It’s your given name,” 

“No,” Alex shook her head. “ _ Nie _ . I said stop it. And why would you say you’re a monster?” 

“I’m not lying,” Natasha said, crossing her arms and looking at Alex. “And I say I’m a monster because I am.” she paused. “ In the Red Room, we’re trained to use our bodies as a weapon. But when we’re young--we’re given a serum that makes the training easier. It makes most of those moves instinct. It makes speaking Russian -- randomly -- instinct. 

“It makes learning  _ other  _ languages easier. Your mother escaped the Red Room with that same serum dormant in her blood.” Natasha paused again. “She also escaped before they could sterilize her. I wasn’t...I didn’t listen to her. I didn’t believe what she said about the Red Room. I was stubborn, brainwashed, and young. When I left, I was rescued and re-trained by Shield. That same year, I went looking for your mother and watched over you. I only stepped in now because of the serum and Ivan,” Natasha looked at Alex. 

“Why does the serum-?” Alex stopped. “ Oh. That’s why she was sick.” 

“Exactly.” Natasha nodded. “She didn’t cultivate the serum--she didn’t  _ train.  _ Of course, she didn’t know but I think she got the message when she became sick. Without that training, she knew she was going to die.” 

“You didn’t come back to take her,” Alex realized. She looked at Natasha, almost scornfully. “You came to say goodbye.” 

“And take care of you.” Natasha added. “I wasn’t prepared but your mother was. She told me about you in the emails she sent to me and she made it clear that she knew that she was dying. And she wanted someone to take care of you so she turned to me. Now that she’s dead...you’re my responsibility.” Natasha stopped talking for a moment. 

Alex slowly sat down, taking in the information while blinking blearily. What was happening to her life? 

“Since I’m coming clean to you you anyway-” Natasha continued. “-an old friend of mine, Ivan Somodorov has kidnapped the Queen of Russia,” 

“Russia doesn’t have a queen,” Alex interrupted blearily. 

“She’s just a memorable character-doesn’t do anything.” Natasha waved her hand. “Like the British one.” 

“Oh,” 

“But anyways,” Natasha continued. “Ivan is helping Madame C-my old trainer-recreate the Red Room. Has been since 1988. I’m here to bring it down and save the Queen. But I needed to check in on you and your mom but..now..well...I can’t take you back to New York. I’m going to have to take you with me.”

Alex thought for a moment. “Okay. Two things though. One--don’t act like I’m three years old and need to be protected and two--don’t lie to me. You’re the lying-all-the-time-type of spy, I can see it in your face. Don’t lie to me and I’ll help you  _ sestra. _ ”  _ Sister.  _

Natasha stilled at hearing the word but slowly nodded. “No more lies,” she agreed.

Alex stared out the window, thinking. After her confrontation with Natasha, the agent had left the room and walked into the cockpit-probably to talk with the pilots. Alex was left alone in the main area and she was bored. 

“ _ Zhivotŭt mi e tolkova iskriven. _ ” She warbled randomly, pressing a button on the side of the chair. 

“Bulgarian.” A cool voice said over the intercom and Alex leaped up, fists at the ready in an attack position. “Translation: _ My life is so twisted. _ ” 

Alex’s head was spinning. She was in front of the chair, knees bent, fists up, and ready. She was breathing hard and her mind was reeling from A, being able to jump up and react like that so fast and B, scanning the room for the threat. 

“Wha-who are you?” she demanded. 

“I am an Artificial Intelligence.” the voice responded. “One specially designed for S.H.I.E.L.D agents--specifically Romanova, Natasha. I was designed by a classified client.” 

“So...you’re not able to say who made it,” Alex simplified, muscles relaxing. 

“Correct,” the voice said. 

“Do you have a name?” Alex asked. “And what’s Shield?”

“I was not given a ‘name’. I was given a code. 34983,” the voice responded. “And S.H.I.E.L.D is an acronym for Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.” 

“Wow. That’s long.” Alex said sarcastically. “And as for the name-there’s no way I’m calling you that.” Alex looked up, thinking. “I’m going to call you…” Alex looked around, thinking  “I’m going to call you _AVA._ It stands for _Akademija_ _Ven Aushilfe_.” 

“Intelligent Friend Helper.” 34983 translated. “That sounds great!”

AVA sounded like she was grinning. 

“Ava?” Alex asked. “When...when Agent  _ Romanova  _ and I go and save the queen of Russia or whatever-will you come with us?” 

“I am installed in this plane, Agent Romanoff’s phone, the client’s phone, SHIELD, and Miss Samodurov’s phone,” AVA responded. 

“Who’s that?” Alex asked instinctively. “I feel like I know her,” 

“You do,” AVA said. “Miss Samodurov or Matryona Samodurov AKA Maria Antonova AKA Marusya Olanova was your mother,” Alex listened to the names intently. 

_ Marusya Olanova _

_ Matryona Samodurov _

_ Maria Antonova _

Alex closed her eyes, remembering her mom. Her mom who would take care of her, even when she herself was hurting. She didn’t abandon Alex. She fought for Alex in court when Alex’s dad left and wanted Alex. She stayed with Alex, she made Alex happy--not caring if she herself liked it or not. Marusya--Matryona--Maria cared more about Alex than herself. 

And now she was gone. 

“Alex?” Natasha came back in. Alex looked up from her spot on the couch. “We’re landing in a few minutes. From there, we’re meeting up with an Agent of the Queen’s.”

“Don’t I have to train?” Alex asked. Natasha quirked an eyebrow. “That serum that my mom had--it’s in me, isn’t it?” 

“Yes and the effects of it are already affecting your daily life,” Natasha said. Alex frowned. 

“How would you know that?” she asked. 

Natasha stifled a sigh. “I saw the way you were assessing me back at the apartment. That quick mind thinking? Battle strategies? The way you learn languages so fast-why school is so easy? That’s the serum, installing this things in your brain automatically. As for training, I think we’re fine with the psychological part-you already have a pretty good grasp on taking in information, then storing it and using it. You’re also pretty good with your body-using it to your advantage. You just need a little more control.”

“And I’ll learn that...when...?” Alex prompted. 

Natasha smiled. “Improversation. The best way to learn. Prepare for landing.” Alex glared and rolled her eyes as Natasha sat down and strapped herself into a seat. Alex did the same thing, sitting across on the other side. She looked out the window and for a split second but stopped and looked back, looking closer.

They were flying over a huge city and lights lit up the entire place. It was a huge country and snow was falling softly down to the ground. As they got closer, Alex spotted people walking around. It was slowly getting darker out and she frowned, looking at her watch. 

“It’s 10--so shouldn’t it be--” Alex stopped abruptly. “I’m stupid. It’s 10 in New York. It’s like 5 o’clock here,” 

“Yes and the sun starts to set around 6ish,” Natasha filled in. “And you’re not stupid. Just a miscalculation.” Alex looked at her. 

She wasn’t looking outside, instead choosing to read a magazine as the plane slowly descended. Alex had a feeling that her aunt didn’t  _ really _ know what to do with kids like her. Alex silently snorted to herself. Her aunt is a spy of course she doesn’t know how to deal with kids. 

Alex sighed. 

This was gonna be  _ great _ . 

The plane landed smoothly-no interruptions or accidents-and Alex took it as a good (well,  _ nadeyus', khorosho _ - _ hopefully good _ ) sign. As they prepared to get off the plane, Natasha briefed her on the mission and what was going to happen. It was simple--find the Red Room, save the Queen, explode the Red Room, get the Queen back to her palace. Easy peasy. 

Alex already had a bad feeling. 

“Here,” Natasha took Alex’s phone and messed with the wiring. Then she handed it back, along with an earpiece. “To communicate with 34983-” 

“Her name is Ava,” Alex said, taking the earpiece and placing it her ear. She slipped her phone back in her pocket, wondering how she still had it. 

Then she remembered that she had taken it out of her backpack and placed it in her back-pocket when she got home. 

“Excuse me?” Natasha asked. 

“My name is Ava,” AVA said. But it wasn’t over the intercom--it was in Alex’s ear and she winced, cupping her ear for a second. “It stands for _Akademija_ _Ven Aushilfe_.” 

Natasha looked at Alex, who shrugged. “Intelligent Friend Helper in three different languages. Very creative  _ Alexei _ .” Then, Natasha headed for the door, pushing it open. “We leave the jet and keep our heads down. Once we’re out of the airport we’re looking for a cafe on the side of the street. It’ll look something like this,” Natasha pulled out a picture from her winter coat as Alex shoved on gloves and a hat. She walked over to Natasha and looked at the picture. 

It was your average cafe, with the spelling, Горячее чайное кафе. Or ‘Hot Tea Cafe’. There was a striped red and white overhang on the pouch and there were at least three tables and chairs out in front. Who knows how many inside. 

“Russians have cafes?” Alex asked as Natasha snapped the photo back in her frilly winter coat and started down the steps of the jet. “And what kind of name is ‘Hot Tea Cafe’?” 

“Yes we have cafes,” Natasha snorted. “It’s almost always negative ten degrees celsius. And Russians aren’t always creative when it comes to names. It’s what it looks like that matters,” 

“Right,” Alex drawled. “Of course.” She shivered. Even with the thick, dark black coat it was cold outside. Snow crunched under her feet and more soft flakes were floating down. Natasha had a dark red coat that shaped her body nicely. She had a brown fur lining on the hood while Alex had a white lining. The gloves she wore were black and simple, meant to keep out the cold than look stylish but somehow Natasha pulled it off. 

Alex herself was wearing the same style type of coat with different colors and green gloves. Her tights were like Natasha’s--black and simple, with black-laced-up boots. Natasha and Alex had the same type of boots. 

The  _ ushankas _ were black and fit their heads nicely, but Alex didn’t like it at all. It was traditional style yes, but there was nothing modern about it. It was just a square of fur that sat on your head. Natasha didn’t let her wear her beanie though. 

She said Alex would look like a  _ nemoy amerikanskiy.  _

_ Dumb american.  _

Alex walked behind Natasha, close as she could be as Natasha spoke rapid-fire Russian to someone, asking them to leave the jet alone. She said she would be back for it in 12 days and needs it in prime condition. The manager said he would need a little more than her word to keep the jet safe. Natasha looked irritated but pulled out 2000000 russian rubles. That was about 32606.00 in US dollars. 

Alex blinked to herself. Now that she knew about the serum, she realized that she never would’ve figured that out so easily. 

Alex breathing was becoming a little too fast and as they walked away, Natasha thrust her in front of her and held her shoulder. 

“Calm down,” she whispered to Alex. “It’s okay alright? Just look for the cafe.”

Alex held her breath and counted to 3 before exhaling slowly and listening to Natasha. The duo had made it out of the airport with no other problems and were now in the street area. Natasha claimed that the ‘Hot Tea Cafe’ wasn’t far from the airport but with the snow and the cold, Alex felt like it was taking hours.  

Natasha tapped her and pointed, nodding towards the photo in her other hand. Alex double checked and looked over at the building Natasha was pointing to. She nodded with Natasha and they walked across the street. 

“Call me Olivia d’Abo,” Natasha whispered, briefing her. “It’s my name. Yours is Alianovna d’Abo. You're my younger sister. The client knows that I’m the Black Widow--she is going to believe that you are the Red Widow. You have to  _ act  _ like it.” 

“I don't even know who that is!” Alex hissed. 

“The Red Widow is your mother!” 

Alex’s eyes widened but they entered the cafe and she wasn’t able to get Natasha to elaborate on that. 

Red Widow? Why Red Widow? Why would that be her mom? 

_ Krasnyy = Red.  _

_ Malen'kiy krasnyy.  _

_ Little Red One. _

“...Alia and I...” Natasha squeezed her shoulder, pulling Alex from whatever she was just experiencing. “Heard you were looking for us, Miss…” 

“Mrs. Orlovsky,” the woman at the table said, correcting Natasha. She had black glasses and a nice suit with a fur coat draped on the back of the chair. 

“She’s not blending in well is she?” Alex whispered. 

“Well she’s not a spy,” Natasha muttered. “ _ Mrs _ . Orlovsky,” Alex realized that Natasha had been speaking Russian. “We’re here to help you with your ah...situation,” 

“One you will do well not to talk about,” Orlovsky clearly cared about her queen’s secrets. As Natasha began to talk about the specific points of this mission, Alex regarded Orlovsky. 

The woman had a crisp dark-blue suit and dark glasses that shaded her eyes. She had dark ginger hair and it was pulled back in a bun. Loose strands hung from the top of her head and down past her eyes. She stood up straight and stiff and had a cup of hot coffee in her hands. 

However, the coffee was left untouched because Orlovsky was wearing makeup and there were no lip marks on the actual cup. 

Alex guessed that the woman was under a lot of stress which made sense. Orlovsky was head of security from the way she held her phone; tight to her chest, constantly checking it and the highly-sophisticated earpiece in her ear. Orlovsky was clip and sharp with her words and tone when speaking to Natasha which was an indication of stress as well. 

She was pretty much done assessing Orlovsky when something kicked itself into high gear.

_ Eyes trained on Natasha-clear signs of distrust. _

_ Gun at the right pocket-indication of right-hand.  _

It was fine, assessing the woman, until-

_ Pistol; a Baikal-441. A PSM. Stands for Pistolet Samozaryandy Malogabritny. Russian for “Compact self-loading pistol”. Designed by the Tula Design Bureau in 1969. Self-defense firearm for law enforcement and military officers of USSR. Entered production at the Izhevsk Mechanical Plant in 1973. Blowback-operated handgun. Double-action trigger. Slide-mounted manual safety without a slide stop. Grip panels are made from thin aluminum. New model has hard plastic. Weapon is made from steel. Intended for army high command staff-- _

Alex shuddered and pulled herself out of whatever she had just experienced. Natasha was gently pushing her shoulder. 

“Alia,” she said. “We have to get going. Mrs. Orlovsky here has a ride for us,” Alex panted and looked up to see Orlovsky looking at her suspiciously. She looked away and at Natasha wo was staring at her, hard. 

“ _ Pourquoi est-ce pire? _ ” Alex gasped. French for ‘ _ Why is it worse?’.  _ “ _ Why does it hurt now? _ ” she still spoke in smooth French. 

Natasha stared at her. 

“ _ Je ne sais pas _ ,” she vacillated. “I don’t know-” 

“Does she speak our language?” Mrs. Orlovsky interrupted. She eyed the two suspiciously. “ _ Rosiká xéreis rosiká _ ?”

“ _ Grecheskiy _ .” Natasha avowed. “Why the  _ ad  _ would you think she’s  _ Greek?! _ ” 

“I don’t know!” Orlovsky fumed. “And we have to leave,  _ nemedlenno _ !” Natasha glared at Orlovsky but grabbed Alex’s arm roughly, pulling Alex up and Alex shook her head, trying to clear her mind. She took a deep breath and wrenched herself out of Natasha’s steel grip. 

“ _ Vad gör jag? _ ” Alex breathed in Swedish.  _ What do I do? _

“Ignore it,” Natasha replied in abrupt Russian. “Orlovsky.” 

“Yes?” Orlovsky acknowledged, opening the door for them. “What is it?” 

Natasha kept the door open for Alex, letting her through first. Despite Alex’s protests, Natasha kept a hold on her arm propping her up. “Where is this ride?” 

“We’re going to the left,” Orlovsky ordered. “A train is waiting to take us to the palace. Then, we head to Moscow,” 

Natasha froze. 

“What?” Alex asked in English. 

“I have a bad history with Moscow,” Natasha told her. “And...there’s an old friend who might...who might help us,” 

“Who?” Alex grimaced as they headed down the street, Orlovsky ahead of them. They kept walking down the street, heading towards a subway. 

“A woman known as Quake,” Natasha mutterted. “And we don’t have the best history together.” 

“What did you do?” Alex rolled her eyes. 

Natasha looked affronted. 

“Why would it be me?” she hissed. Alex looked at her and Natasha grouchily admitted; “I shot her multiple times. In my defense though, she was working with her father Mister Hyde who was apart of--” Natasha stopped. “I can’t tell you all of this. Point is, I can ask for help from her.” 

“Would she help us?” Alex whispered as they neared the subway. 

“Yes.” Natasha was blank-faced. “Probably. Most likely. She works with my boss so it’s a definite possibility--” 

“Oh shut up and say you don’t know,” Alex growled. “Seriously…” 

Natasha glared. “Alright yes, I don’t know if she’ll specifically help  _ me  _ okay? And since this isn’t a Shield assigned mission, I have no idea if she’ll even agree to help me.” Natasha jogged down the steps into the underground. “There. Happy?” 

“Immensely,” Alex rolled her eyes. “What’s her name again?” 

“Skye AKA Quake AKA Daisy Johnson.” Natasha listed. “You might actually like her. She’s a bit bossy, a bit rude--” 

“Hey!” Alex slapped Natasha on the head who froze. “I take offense to that--what?” 

“I didn’t duck the slap...” Natasha mumbled. 

Alex stared at her.

“Well maybe you’re letting your guard down around me,” she offered. 

Natasha looked at her. 

“Maybe…” she whispered slowly. 

“Are you two done?” Orlovsky’s Russian was harsh and interrupting. The girls looked at her. Orlovsky was gesturing to a cab car. “Let’s go.  _ Potoropis _


	5. Chapter 4

Natasha Romanoff

Underground, Car 765, Armenia, Russia

7:05 PM

Saturday

March 3, 2008

 

N atasha Romanoff stared out the car, debating. Orlovsky was sitting across from her, looking at her phone. Natasha regarded the woman. She was certainly keen to save her Queen, that’s for sure. But the whole business was sketchy. Ivan Somodorov--updating a Queen’s palace? And then taking her? 

Natasha remembered the women and men who were brought to the Red Room. If the Queen was brought to a  _ new _ Red Room...Natasha had bad news for Mrs. Orlovsky. 

Her queen wasn’t coming back.  

Alex was staring at the ground, standing up against the door. Her blue hair waved in her face, charred at the edges. It was from the explosion that had killed her mother. 

Alex Symkova. 

Natasha had no idea what to do. 

Alex was a whole new level of training; one Natasha herself wasn’t prepared for. Natasha had expected to do this alone. 

She was used to it. She knew she would go alone when Coulson had said that she was going to need to find Red Widow. She knew she was going to be by herself. 

But then Matryona dropped a bombshell.

She had a daughter. 

And now  _ Asya  _ was Natasha’s responsibility. 

Natasha closed her eyes and tried to relax. The good news (well, probably bad news) was that Alex was just like her mother-stubborn, tough, and flexible. She rolled off her problems easily, eyes trained on the end-goal. 

Natasha felt like she could at least learn to  _ like  _ this new Matryona. And at least she wouldn’t have to worry about Alex’s safety. 

But she still did. 

It was almost instinct. Matryona was like her sister--her  _ krovavo-sestra _ . And Alex was like the new Matryona. Natasha kept telling herself that she would be fine--that Alex would be fine. 

But it wasn’t easy for some reason. 

“Romanoff,” Orlovsky was looking at her. “Do you have your gear?” 

“Yes,” Natasha said immediately. “Which palace--?”

“Catherine’s,” Orlovsky turned a page in her magazine. “Tsarskoe Selo. Near Petersburg.” 

“Of course,” Natasha nodded. 

“And then Moscow?” Alex looked at Orlovsky. “Why...Moscow...again? Because the distance between Petersburg and Moscow is, like, 712.9 kilometers. That’s nine hours and twenty-seven minutes. But that’s without traffic.” 

“Good math,” Orlovsky looked a little surprised. “But Moscow because we’ve heard of kidnappings near the area--” 

“It’s happening again,” Natasha mutterted. 

“What is?” Orlovsky snapped her head to Natasha, eyes hard. “What’s happening again  _ Chernaya Vdova _ ?” Natasha just stared at Orlovsky in response. 

“We can get help at Moscow,” she replied. “That’s all I’m saying.” 

Orlovsky leaned in. “I’m on this mission with you,  _ zhenshchina _ . I’m not leaving--” 

“Well you should,” Natasha snapped. “You both should.” She looked at Alex. 

“Why?” Alex was speaking English again. “Because something is happening with the Red Room? And you don’t want me getting hurt?” 

Natasha stared at her. “I don’t know.” 

“Admit it,” Alex huffed. “You care.” 

Natasha didn’t reply. 

“We’re going to the castle,” Natasha affirmed. “And then we discuss...” she waved her hand. “ _ This. _ ” 

 

Natasha walked up the steps of the palace with authority. Alex was behind her and Orlovsky was in front. The subway had dropped them off about a block away from the palace itself. Orlovsky got them through security and nearby tour guides spoke English to the Americans that were there to see the queen. 

“They aren’t getting very far,” Alex muttered. “ _ Oni dazhe znayut? _ ”

“ _ Nyet _ .” Orlovsky opened the door into the palace. “They don’t know that the queen is missing--we intend to keep it that way.” Natasha looked around. 

The place was ornate and Natasha held out her wrist-casually. The cuff of her sleeve had a locator and she gently brushed it in different areas of the castle, looking for anything. 

Orlovsky lead the duo through the main hall, before taking a sharp right. She walked them into a room and Alex immediately sank into one of the armchairs. It occured to Natasha that she looked pale. 

“ _ Licuit mihi? _ ” she whispered. ‘Are you alright?’

“ _ Denique _ .” Alex waved her off, responding ‘Fine’ back in Latin. 

“If you two are done,” Orlovsky had sat down behind the counter and was looking at Alex and Natasha harshly. 

Natasha sat down next to Alex--stone faced. 

“The night the Queen was taken,” Orlovsky started. 

“Yesterday.” Natasha filled in to Alex who nodded. 

“She had thrown a party.” Orlovsky continued, sounding irked. “Halfway through, she left with a guest--a man--to her room. A minute later, I was approached by a man named Albert Mordenhov. He mentioned the new security measures we had installed and talked mostly about my job. That night, he lead me on but then left, claiming ‘Red Herring’. 

“After that, he left and I ran upstairs to find my queen gone-the man dead, along with the guards that had followed Nic--the queen.” Orlovsky looked at Natasha. “I found a note and it told me to call you and your  _ Red Widow. _ ” 

“Of course it did.” Natasha snorted. “What was the name? Ivan Somodorov?”

“Yes,” Orlovsky said. 

“And let me guess, he said something about the  _ Krasnaya komnata _ ?” 

Orlovsky frowned. “Yes.” 

“The man you met is a Red Room finatic. He probably kidnapped the queen to show off.” 

“Wouldn’t he train her?” Orlovsky inquired. 

“No--too old,” Natasha stood. She started to pace the room, glancing at Alex who was looking paler than before and seemed to be sweating. She was slouched in her seat and her breathing was tight. “She’d probably be used as an example.” She didn’t mention that the queen was most likely used as target practice.

And Red Room girls  _ never  _ miss. 

“So what do we do?” Alex struggled to sit up and her voice sounded croaky. 

“Save the Queen of course,” Orlovsky rolled her eyes. “Why do you think you are here?” 

“No.” Natasha intervened. “She stays here. You stay here. I do this alone,” 

“Absolutely not.” Orlovsky barked. 

“You have nothing to do with this.” Natasha snapped. 

“That is my queen,” Orlovsky had stood. “You are not rescuing her by yourself!” 

“How do you know Ivan?” Alex’s English was jarring in Natasha’s mind. Orlovsky looked at Alex, frowning. 

“What?” she looked at Natasha. 

Natasha was silent. 

“ _ Ego scio eum a rubrum evasit. Vir erat amplus conscious domina C. Et post dices magis. _ ” she said rapidly in Latin to Alex. ‘ _ I know him from the Red Room. He was a big supporter of Madame C. I'll tell you more later. _ ’ She turned to Orlovsky. “And as for you--I don’t give a damn if that’s your queen. Ivan wants  _ me.  _ And I’m going to give him  _ me.  _ So take care of Alex and stay here. That is my final warning.” 

“Warning?” Orlovsky stood again and Natasha stopped pacing, hackles raised. “What warning? All I’m getting is being ordered around and I don’t care if you’re an agent of Shield-- _ you have no authority here.  _ I  _ am  _ coming with you. The girl can stay--” 

“The girl has a voice.” Alex stood, but stumbled. “And I’m coming--” 

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked. “I mean it. You’re pale, you’re stumbling--and why the hell do you want to come on this mission anyway? First it was all I-hate-you, now it’s I’m-not-leaving-you?” 

“I don’t know!” Alex snarled. “I--I don’t--I don’t know why I’m doing this? I just need--I need to…” Alex’s eyes suddenly rolled up and she fell to the ground. 

Orlovsky lunged, grabbing her before she hit the ground. She looked at Natasha. “She’s burning up. What’s happened to her?” 

Natasha was frozen. 

Why was she like this? Why was Alex sick? 

She was fine--the serum wouldn’t affect her like that yet--

_ Your serum.  _

Natasha’s eyes widened. She didn’t know where the voice came from in her head, but she understood. Natasha had a well-worked serum. It still ran through her veins but she trained hard-she cultivated her serum. 

But that serum that was in  _ her  _ had been affecting Alex all this time. 

“It’s me.” Natasha cleared her throat. “It’s me--we have to get her to Moscow. I know a person who can fix her up.” 

“That means I’m coming.” Orlovsky amended. Natasha had grabbed Alex, loading her in her arms. She was at the door when she turned to Orlovsky. 

“Yes.” She snapped. “Now come on.  _ Poydem _ !”


	6. Chapter 5

Daisy Johnson

SHIELD BASE, Moscow; Russia

8:09 PM

Saturday

March 3, 2008

 

“H ey Johnson!” 

Daisy Johnson turned at the sound of her name. She raised her eyes. “Yeah, Fired-Up-Clyde?” 

“Shut up.” Johnny Blaze rolled his eyes. “Coulson wants to talk. Apparently an old friend of yours is showing up.” Daisy frowned. Who could that be? She’s only been with SHIELD for a few months.

Agent Blaze handed her the phone and walked farther into the base. Daisy looked at the phone before clicking the green ‘Call’ button and holding it to her ear. 

“‘Ello, Philly. What’s it like in ‘adelphia?” Daisy smirked to herself. 

“Hardy--har--har.” Phil Coulson grumped. “We have a message for you.” 

“I heard.” Daisy laughed. “Who’s it from?” 

“Natasha Romanoff is in the area.” Daisy froze. Oh no. “She needs your help.” 

“Why?” Daisy snapped, voice a little shaky. 

“I sent her on a mission. She has to save the Queen of Russia--someone who was kidnapped by a Red Room finatic. She called in a few minutes ago--says she’s headed to Moscow and needs backup.” 

“Black Widow needing backup--I should be honored.” Daisy snorted, rolling her eyes. “Why me?” 

“She doesn’t like working with any other agents.” Coulson responded. 

“What--they’re all idiots?” Daisy rolled her eyes. 

“Exactly.” 

“That--that’s not what I meant--” 

“Those were her exact words actually--” 

“But I don’t need--” 

“Johnson.” Coulson interrupted. “We need to save this Queen. If we don’t Russia won’t be too happy.” 

“Who gives a damn about what Russia thinks?” Daisy hissed. 

“Shield,” Coulson replied. “If we don’t do this--at least finding out if she’s dead or alive--Moscow can shut down the operation we have there.” 

“But this is private.” Daisy deadpanned. 

“It’s not actually.” Coulson sighed. Daisy frowned. “Listen, please, just do this Daisy. Please? For Shield?” 

“For Shield,” Daisy agreed. “Not for Widow.” 

“That’s good enough. She’s coming in five.” 

 

“Well well well,” Daisy strided through the hallway which was damp and dark. The place was under a sewer and there were dripping noises everywhere. Pale yellow lanterns were hung at every fifth interval. “Look what the spider dragged in. A little webbed--up bug?” 

“Shut up Johnson,” Agent Natasha Romanoff growled at Daisy. Daisy looked at the people she was with. A black--Russian Queen--service person Daisy knew as Myra Orlovsky was walking next to Widow, purpose in her stride. Romanoff herself was carrying an unconscious blue-haired girl. 

“Who’s that?” Daisy nodded to the girl. 

“Someone in dire need of help,” Orlovsky said before Widow could. 

“Red Room serum,” Natasha specified and Daisy’s heart dropped. 

“Oh god.” she muttered, racing with the other two to the door. “How long--?” 

“Just started.” Romanoff replied. “But we have to hurry.” 

“Yeah,” Daisy agreed, opening the door for her. 

Orlovsky looked confused but followed in suit. Daisy guessed that Widow hadn’t told the woman anything.

“We’ve got an A-five-ninety-two, section three eight!” Daisy yelled, shoving past other people towards the hospital room. “Clyde! Get your butt over here!” 

“What!” Johnny came in around the corner. “Where are we going?” 

“Hospital,” Daisy said, charging forward and clearing the way. “You got a lantern?” 

“I always have one,” Johnny looked behind him at Orlovsky, Widow, and the girl. “Drill?” 

“No,” Daisy rolled her eyes. “It’s an A-five-ninety-two, section three eight.” 

“Jesus,” Johnny blinked, gaping. “You’re kidding--” 

“Fire up the way,” Daisy waved him forward. Johnny looked around but clenched his fists and shot them forward. Flames shot out from his wrists and other agents cleared the way a lot quicker. Flames licked his heels and Johnny side-stepped in front of Daisy--leading the way. 

When they got to the room, Johnny cancelled out his flames and pushed open the swing doors. Daisy led them to an empty room and gestured for Widow to lay the girl on the table in the middle of the room. 

“Name?” Daisy asked, firing up the medical machines. 

“Alex Symkova.” Romanoff of wiped her forehead. “Born with the serum--” 

“More potent. Great.” Daisy scowled. 

“--from her mom.” Romanoff continued. “Dormant for the most part--only affected her mind. Faster reflex changes since I started showing up.” Johnny raised an eyebrow. 

Daisy explained to him, “Basically since Widow came in contact with her--the serum has gotten stronger in her. Has she been trained?” 

“No,” Natasha said. “Had to improvise since I was given a mission. Thought I was going to do it with my sister--” 

“This isn’t Red Widow?” Orlovsky interrupted. Daisy stumbled a bit, taking out the chemicals needed. 

“ _ Red  _ Widow?” She gaped. “Like Red-Room-Matryona-Samodurov-Red Widow?” Black Widow rolled her eyes. Even though Red Widow never walked into any SHIELD base, she had helped SHIELD through technology and was a bit of a legend. If a tech-ghost could be a legend. 

“Yes.” Widow sighed. “She’s dead.” 

Daisy dropped a container, spilling a blue liquid on the ground. 

“Careful!” Natasha snapped. “Get her the fluids--we have to wake her up.” 

“Why did you lie?” Orlovsky had focused her attention on Black Widow. “Why did you lie about her?” 

“Coulson and I didn’t know if you would accept if the Red Widow was dead,” Natasha snapped. “And I have to take care of her because she’s the  _ Red Widow’s daughter _ !” 

“Holy cats!” Daisy hooted. “ _ That’s  _ Red Widow’s  _ daughter?! _ ” 

“ _ Yes! Help her now! _ ” Natasha shrieked. “I’ll explain  _ everything--just help her! _ ” 

“Right!” Daisy yelped. “Johnny--red liquid! Mix it with the morphine.” 

“Morphine?” Johnny had been watching everything with wide eyes and was now looking at Daisy like she was an idiot. 

“Yes!” Daisy snapped her fingers. “Morphine--now!” Johnny scrambled as Daisy cut the side of Alex’s neck. She gently pressed a tube into the incision. She taped the tube to the side of the pole next to the bed and began to add a thin amount of liquid. Johnny handed her the morphine solution. She poured it into the tube as well. 

As the reaction began to take place, Daisy connected a device to Alex and watched as her vitals slowly went up. She frowned, looking at the brain waves. 

“Johnny,” Daisy nudged the other agent with her foot who was talking to Black Widow, saying that Alex would be alright. He also explained to Orlovsky what was going on. (“...Red Room serum that interacts with another Red Room girl, reacts a lot quicker. Meaning Alex would’ve had to train in the next twenty-four hours because of it. If not, she just gets pale, dizzy, sick--like a really bad fever mixed with pneumonia…”)

Johnny looked at her. “What is it, Dais?” 

“Look her at her brain waves,” Daisy nodded to the electroencephalogram or EEG. “There’s something wrong with them, right?” Johnny looked at them. “Right? I’m not just seeing things--”

“They’re double.” Johnny interrupted, standing as leaned towards the EEG, frowning.

“Double?” Widow frowned. 

“How?” Orlovsky added. “I’m pretty sure there’s more than one brain wave in a person--”

“Yes but not on the same line.” Johnny told her. He looked closer, peering at it. “It’s barely noticeable,” he added. “But there’s a second brain wave line when there should only be one.” he looked at the numbers next to it. “It’s on the same line and doesn’t look like it’s affecting…” Johnny trailed off.  He sat back, perplexed.“Oh that’s spooky.” 

“What’s so ‘spooky’ about a second brain wave?” Orlovsky frowned. 

“Like, it’s not supposed to happen but I’d say it’s more ‘concerning’ or ‘troubling’ than ‘ _ Spooky _ ’.” Daisy agreed. 

“No.” Johnny shook his head. “‘ _Spooky_ ’ as in _spooky physics_. That’s what Einstein called _Quantum Entanglement._ ” 

“Quantum what?” Orlovsky frowned. At the same time, Widow paled and said “She’s been  _ what? _ ” 

Daisy looked as confused as Orlovsky. 

“Quantum Entanglement is a quantum mechanical phenomenon in which the quantum states of two or more objects basically merge together.” Johnny explained. “In this case, it’s Alex’s mind and…” Johnny sat down on a computer next to the EEG. 

“And what?” Widow demanded. 

“Or who?” Daisy asked. Widow looked at her. “What? It could be possible…”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Widow replied. 

“Hang on…” Johnny mumbled, typing something furiously into a computer. “I’m…” he trailed off. There was a long pause and Widow looked like she was about to strangle him for not answering anyone. 

Daisy looked at her and Orlovsky. “Usually he starts explaining something but then has to focus. Don’t feel too bad. He does it to everyone. Quite the science-y person.” Orlovsky rolled her eyes. 

“What were going to say?” Orlovsky looked at Widow. She waited and then added, “This has something to do with the Red Room, doesn’t it?” Widow frowned.

“I wasn’t going to say anything but I know what QE does. QE is something the Red Room focused heavily on.” Widow explained. “They’ve wanted to use it to get into different places that are otherwise heavily guarded. At my time--it was just a theory. Entangling a Red Room girl’s mind with a powerful figure. Making it easier to shut down that government. However, I blew up the Red Room when I left. But I guess Ivan--” 

“Got it.” Johnny interrupted, bringing up a picture of a young boy with brown hair and a pale face. “This was a while ago--he’s about 20-21ish now-” 

“Who is that?” Widow asked. 

“He’s the guy Alex is QE’d with,” Johnny told her. “A man called Ivan Somo--So--” He struggled to say the last name so Orlovsky leaned over him and read it herself. 

“Somodorov.” Orlovsky read, going white. “The man who kidnapped the Russian Queen.” 


	7. Chapter 6

Alex Symkova

SHIELD Base, Moscow, Russia

12:21 PM

Saturday

March 3, 2008

 

_ “I _ _ don’t know!” Alex snarled.  _

_ Her head was on fire. “I don’t know why I’m doing this? I just need to--I need to…”  _

_ It hurt so much.  _

_ Alex felt herself pass out on the floor. She barely sensed Orlovsky lunging forward to catch her--Natasha just about to do the same. She didn’t know what they were going to do now.  _

_ All she knew was that she was deep in her mind now.  _

_ She was back in the room, arms tied behind the chair, ankles tied to the chair ends. Her eyes were blindfolded again and she leaned back.  _

_ “Could you speak English this time?” Alex asked, irritated.  _

_ “I will,” the man’s voice was in front of her and she jerked.  _

_ “Who are you?” she demanded.  _

_ “You found your aunt,” he replied. “Good. Lead her to me, Miss Red Widow.”  _

_ “Who are you!” Alex repeated, screaming but the man was gone and she was alone. She felt something tugging her brain, trying to pull her out of wherever she was but she steeled herself and refused.  _

_ “ _ Ná _.” She gritted her teeth. “Never.”  _

_ Alex bit her lip and waited the tug out, still refusing when it became a burning pain as if someone was trying to forcibly wrench her away. She waited it out.  _

_ It took a few minutes of ear-splitting pain and constant tugging before it faded away--leaving Alex alone. Alex opened her eyes and tugged on her hands. All she had to do was slit the ropes. But this was a dream--it could be easy as… _

_ The ropes fell away.  _

_ She shrugged off the loose ones and, leaving the blindfold on, untied her ankles. She sat up and brought her hand to the blindfold but she couldn’t take it off. Alex wanted to take it off and she could. But mentally--unconsciously--she was scared. What was she going to see behind this?  _

_ Steeling herself again, Alex took a deep breath.  _

You are stronger than this _ , she told herself.  _ Whatever is behind this blindfold--you’ll find answers. 

_ Answers to what though?  _

_ Alex didn’t think about that, instead choosing to complete the task at hand. Which was get this blindfold off her face. _

_ Taking a deep breath once again, Alex ripped the blindfold off.  _

 

And woke up. 

“Ah!” Alex screamed and bolted up, when strong hands pushed her back. She felt something in her neck and she attempted to get rid of it but someone else grabbed her hands. She tried to punch whoever they were because she had just seen something frightening but she couldn’t remember what and that scared her even more and now--

“ _ Asya! _ ”

Alex froze. She knew that voice. 

“W--where am I?” Alex gasped, breathing heavily as she looked at Natasha. 

“Shield base in Moscow,” a young woman with short brown hair, blue eyes, and a heavy-metal-looking leather jacket peered over her, smiling. “And don’t get rid of that thing in your neck--it’s helping you.” 

“Ow.” Alex touched her neck where she found a tube. “What?” 

“We’re going to have to train you soon.” Natasha said. She sounded shaky. Was she concerned? “The serum in you is reacting with the serum in me and that’s giving you the  _ Krasnaya Komnatnaya Bolezn' _ .” Alex blinked rapidly, trying to understand what was happening. 

Alex laid back, breathing deeply. She tried to remember what was in that dream as Orlovsky, a man, the young woman, and Natasha talked with each other. She closed her eyes and decided to focus on what Natasha told her because for some reason she couldn’t retain the memory of her dream.

The Red Room Sickness. 

That’s what  _ Krasnaya Komnatnaya Bolezn' _ translated to. 

Red Room Sickness...did that mean...?

“Nat?” Alex tried to sit up but the tube groaned. The young woman looked ready to pounce on her. She stopped and the young woman looked relieved. “Wha--what is the Red Room Sickness?” 

“That’s what you called it?” the man looked at Natasha who nodded. 

“That’s what  _ Krasnaya Komnatnaya Bolezn' _ translates to,” Orlovsky pointed out. Her Russian accent was alarming around the other two and Alex blinked, trying to keep accents straight. Clearly the man and woman were from America. But what were they doing in Moscow? 

Daisy Johnson. 

That’s who the woman must be because that’s one of the people Natasha was talking about before she passed out--

“...seen it coming.” Natasha was saying, sighing. “You’re going to be feeling really bad effects of a fever and pneumonia. Just as a heads up.” 

“Great.” Alex groaned, sitting back. 

“Are you okay?” the man was looking at her. “Feeling anything...weird?” 

“Other than the craziest dream--I’m actually feeling pretty okay.” Alex huffed. “Thanks though.” 

“Dream?” Natasha asked as the man nodded at her. 

“Yeah.” Alex looked at her. “Is something wrong?” Natasha pulled back. 

“No.” she shook her head. “Nothing.” Alex studied her. 

“I feel like you’re lying.” she noted, peering at Natasha. “I thought we agreed, no more lies.”

“Well this is one I have to keep,” Natasha snapped. “If I say anything to you about it, Shield could use it against you.” Natasha looked away from Alex and to the man and woman. “No offense but as it is, I’m not sure if Blaze and Skye will-” 

“Oh we’ll never tell,” the woman said quickly. “As long as you call me Quake and we get to come with you.” 

Natasha looked ready to protest but Alex interrupted. 

“So you  _ are  _ Daisy Johnson!” Alex grinned triumphantly. “I was right.” She laid down on the table that she just realized she was on, feeling very weak suddenly. 

“Widow tell you about me?” Quake smirked. 

“Yea…” Alex murmured. “Just a little bit. I’m tired. Is that a problem?” 

“No,” the man--Blaze--came up next to her. “It’s fine. You’ll be okay. This tube can come out soon as well.” Alex nodded mindlessly. 

“Right.” she said, closing her eyes. “I’m not actually asleep--just resting.” 

“Got it.” Quake’s voice seemed blurred. “The morphine is probably making her a little tired--she shouldn’t get addicted by the way, the Red Room serum is too strong to do that-

“I know.” Natasha was standing next to her. “You need to sleep  _ Asya.  _ We’ll train you tomorrow.” 

Alex mumbled incoherently. She didn’t want to do that. She didn’t want to train. She wanted to go home--to her mom. 

But her mom was dead and there was still a kidnapped Queen of Russia and a Red Room finatic on the loose as well as a man in her head who wanted her to bring Nat to him. 

Why would that person want Nat? Unless he’s a Red Room finatic too, which makes sense. But where were they? Why was she so afraid of it-

Her dream. 

It wasn’t a dream--it was a memory. 

Alex felt it falling into place and she begged for sleep. 

She  _ needed  _ to see that memory. 

She  _ needed  _ to see the warehouse. 

She had no choice. 

She had to figure out what the memory is trying to tell her.


	8. Chapter 7

Alex Symkova

SHIELD Base, Moscow, Russia

12:21 PM

Saturday

March 3, 2008

 

_ “W _ _ here am I?” Alex was back in her dream, untied and freed but with the blindfold still on. Her unconscious mind clearly did not want her to see whatever it was she was about to see. But she had a theory.  _

_ Well, more like a gut instinct.  _

_ There’s Ivan Somodorov who is a Red Room fanatic, according to Natasha. Obviously he would know who Black Widow--duh, Natasha told her that he was an old friend and was creating a new Red Room--and Red Widow are which is how the voice knew who she was and why he wanted Black Widow. She figured if she could confirm that this guy in her head was Ivan Somodorv, they could find the man easier-- _

_ “Are you really ready for this?”  _

_ The man was back.  _

_ Alex’s head whipped to the side, in his direction. “Why wouldn’t I be?”  _

_ “Because you kept it hidden for so long.” the voice was wandering. “Because it was so horrible so  _ frightening  _ to a one year old that she kept it deep and dark within her to the point where she doesn’t even know why.”  _

_ “Who are you?” Alex’s voice started to shake.  _

_ She didn’t know why.  _

_ She didn’t know why this was happening now.  _

_ Why she was figuring out everything now.  _

_ Why her?  _

_ Why would the Red Room need her?  _

_ Why was her mother kidnapped?  _

_ Why did she matter? _

_ “You know who I am.” hands were around the blindfold.  _

_ But they weren’t hers.  _

_ “You’ve known all your life. You’ve just kept it hidden until you were older when the connection got stronger and now your aunt is here and you  _ know  _ my name.”  _

_ Alex froze. “Ivan Somodorv.”  _

_ The blindfold was gone.  _

_ “Yes dear? I’m listening.”  _

_ Alex wanted a monster.  _

_ She wanted to believe that Ivan Somodorov would look evil-old, hunchbacked, warts maybe. Wrinkles definitely. Wiry old hair--crazy look.  _

_ But what was standing before her could pass as her  _ father.  _ Smooth brownish reddish hair, striking blue eyes, defined chin, pale face. A soft smirk was on his face and his eyes weren’t hard like she’d expect them to be. They were light and fun.  _

_ “You aren’t him.” Alex blurted. The man cocked his head.  _

_ “Why wouldn’t I be?” he responded.  _

_ “Ivan--...Somodorov wouldn’t look like that. You don’t look like that in real life I mean--” Alexis started. Ivan threw his head back and laughed.  _

_ “I’m 30 years old, darling.” He smiled softly. “I can look however I want.”  _

_ Alex’s mouth went dry.  _

_ “Now,” Ivan clapped his hands. “Since you know who I am, I’ll start the hunt. Find the clues and they’ll lead you to me.” his eyes sparked. “From there, the fun can begin. Good-bye.” he tapped Alex’s head and this time the pain was greater then before and she screamed-- _

 

And woke up. 

Alex tightened in her spot on the bed, clenching down a scream. 

She wasn’t going to bring attention to herself. She wasn’t. She didn’t  _ need  _ to. 

So she wasn’t going to. 

Alex could hear different voices talking-what they were going to do about her (something with QE?). They still thought she was asleep which was a good thing because Alex didn’t know how much time had passed since she fell asleep. She would wake up soon though, and tell them what she knew--

“Alex, you can wake up now.” Natasha. 

Alex cracked her eye open and sighed. “It was worth a shot. Listen, I need to tell you about my dream--” 

“The one you had earlier?” Orlovsky--Myra asked. 

“Yeah,” Alex nodded, sitting up. “And a new one--can we get this out of my neck, please?” 

“Huh?” Quake looked around. “Oh, yeah, sure.” She came over and detached the tube from Alex’s neck allowing her to sit up. “You won’t be able to walk for a few days--dizzy and all that.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Alex stood--and immediately sat back down. “Maybe not.” 

“As much as I hate it, you always listen to the doctor.” Blaze grinned. 

“Your dream?” Natasha interrupted. “What was it?” 

“This man,” Alex said. “I’ve been having dreams about being trapped in a warehouse for the last couple years but it was only when you came, when I heard this voice. It told me to find you, and bring you to him.” Alex looked at Natasha. “I figured out though, that it was Ivan--”

“Somodorov,” Natasha finished. “Do you know...when he could have found you or taken you? When you you were younger?” 

Alex frowned. “No, not really--why?”

“He’s Quantum-Entangled with you,” Blaze said, spinning in a chair. “Basically your brain waves or atoms are connected on a quantum level, giving you the ability to see into his mind and the ability for him to see into yours.” 

“That’s bad.” Alex noted. 

“Yeah,” Quake slid into a chair. “It is.” 

“How?” Myra asked. “The way I see it--it just makes us more evenly matched.” 

“But we need an advantage,” Natasha told her. “Not to be evenly matched because before we know it--Ivan will have an advantage and he’ll be too strong and we’ll loose--” 

“He’s leaving us clues,” Alex blurted. They all stared at her. “Like, to where he is.”

“How do you know?” Natasha asked. 

“He told me.” Alex replied. 

“And what if he’s just messing with you?” Natasha accused, eyes narrowing. “What if every clue he throws at us--it’s all just a lie and not real?” 

Alex shrugged. “I’d trust the genocidal maniac more than you. You don’t have a straight answer to anything.” Natasha recoiled, stung. 

There was a terse moment of silence. 

“I’ll update Phil,” Quake piped up after a moment. “Johnny--” 

“I’ll be sending in the brain wave results to get more answers,” he quickly yelped out. Quake left and Johnny gathered his stuff, looking around, before leaving as well.

Alex laid back down as Myra took one look at Natasha and Alex and left. 

“You really trust him?” Natasha asked after a moment. She was staring at the ground, arms crossed and backed up against the wall. Alex looked at her. 

“I...I do.” she shook her head and stood up more confidently. “I do.” 

Natasha looked up at her. Then leaned away. “Get some more rest--real rest. You’re going to start to train tomorrow.” and then she left.


End file.
